


Becoming Yours

by awkwardgturtle



Series: Truman Show 'Verse [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, The Truman Show AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardgturtle/pseuds/awkwardgturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Praying silently that someone wasn't already on their way to drag him off set, Patrick slowly looked up at Pete. He was grinning, waving the heavy book in front of Patrick’s face. “You dropped this.”</p><p>Patrick felt like he was swallowing a golf ball, but he somehow managed to take the book with a shaky hand and choke out a soft “sorry.”</p><p>“It’s all good,” said Pete, leaning in like he was about to tell Patrick a secret, though he didn’t lower his voice at all. “I figure I should take a guy as cute as you being that shaken up by me as a compliment.”</p><p>Oh no, oh no, oh no. Pete’s hitting on him. His orientation didn’t cover that kind of shit at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming Yours

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to Show Me A True Man from Patrick's perspective. There is no real order to them, so enjoy them however you please. 150 billion percent credit to Josie for betaing this fic even though her life got really crazy. Remaining mistakes are mine.

_To Mr. Patrick Stump,_

_I am pleased to inform you that your application to attend the university here at Wentz Studios as an extra has been accepted. We are proud to contribute toward your future by providing you with both a quality education as well and a spot on the internationally acclaimed Wentz Show._

_In the interest of keeping the show running smoothly, you will be required to adhere to a strict set of rules that will be discussed with you during orientation. We have enclosed details regarding the location of the Wentz Show Extra Training Facility nearest you and the time and date you will be expected to attend._

_Thank you for your participation,_

_Mr. Richard Rider_

_Executive Producer and CEO of Wentz Studios Inc._

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

It was simple, really. Patrick had expected to jump through more hoops to land a spot on the world's most popular TV show, even as an extra, but no. All he really had to do was stick to a schedule, not stand out and not speak to Pete Wentz unless he spoke to him first. In return, he got a free college education and pretty much the coolest addition to his resume he could possibly get. It was cake to him, honestly, because even if he saw Pete - he's not a trained actor, so his schedule put him pretty far out of Pete's way most of the day - it's not like he even had the courage to talk to someone of his level of fame.

The schedule they had him on was pretty clear. Coffee at the school cafe in the morning, (he knew that Pete preferred the cafe down the street) classes in the afternoon (all on the opposite ends of the school as him.) then, after school, an hour of studying in the library, (Pete studied at home) followed by dinner at a bar (on the other side of town from Pete's normal haunts) and weekends working as a cashier at a health food store (as if Pete Give-Me-Pizza-Or-Give-Me-Death Wentz would ever step foot in one of those.) The only big downside was that, because of his schedule, he didn't really have much opportunity to make friends with anyone besides the ones randomly assigned to him by mutual scheduling. Luckily, they were nice enough which made his evenings at the bar his favorite part of the day.

"Have any of you ever seen him?" he asked them one day as they sit around their circular table. "Like, passed him in a hallway or something?"

They all shook their heads, Frank more vigorously than the rest. "God, no. I think I would faint even if I just lay eyes on him," he says firmly.

Joe made a face. "Why? He's just a normal guy. "

"A normal guy that's more famous than anyone else in the entire world," said Greta as she reached for her drink.

"He doesn't know that, though," Joe pointed out. "Cameras or no, he's just like us."

"Still, I think it'd be cool to see him at least once," said Patrick. "Just to say you have."

Greta gave him a look bordering on stern and suspicious. "You aren't thinking of breaking your schedule, are you? You know they'll throw you out if you even look at Pete the wrong way, let alone go out of your way to find him."

Managing not to roll his eyes at the suggestion, he shook his head. "I'm not saying I'm going to look for him. Just if he wanders by one day."

She didn't look convinced, but she conceded anyway. "It'd be a story to tell, at least."

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

Patrick wasn’t sure what kind of luck he had, but he was becoming more and more aware that it wasn't the good kind. The library was out of the book he needed to finish his project for World History, and he still had an hour to burn in the library and an additional hour a half of dinner before he was allowed to make a run to a bookstore. He did some quick math in his head. If he finished half the project that night and the other half over coffee the next day, that would give him about three hours to sleep if he didn’t use those hours to instead lie in bed and wonder why he thought college was a good plan in the first place.

He pulled out a book at random to read as he tried to fill his time in the library. It was book on the history of science or something, heavy enough that, when he turned and saw a familiar tattooed arm reaching for a book next to him, it caused him to then drop said book in his shock. Additionally, the noise it made when it hit the floor was loud enough to turn every head in the place. Including Pete’s.

 _Retreat, retreat, retreat!_ Patrick’s brain screamed at him, so he did, scrambling away toward the table where he had left his belongings. He cursed himself in his head all the while. He was going to be sent home for this, he knew it. His stupid, starstruck ass was going to be kicked out because he couldn't even stand five feet from the star of the show without making a fool of himself. He began to gather his things, no longer caring about keeping to his schedule, but a hand on top of his books stopped him short.

A hand attached to that tattooed arm.

Fuck.

Praying silently that someone wasn't already on their way to drag him off set, Patrick slowly looked up at Pete. He was grinning, waving the heavy book in front of Patrick’s face. “You dropped this.”

Patrick felt like he was swallowing a golf ball, but he somehow managed to take the book with a shaky hand and choke out a soft “sorry.”

“It’s all good,” said Pete, leaning in like he was about to tell Patrick a secret, though he didn’t lower his voice at all. “I figure I should take a guy as cute as you being that shaken up by me as a compliment.”

Oh no, oh no, _oh no_. Pete’s _hitting on him_. His orientation didn’t cover that kind of shit at all. “I have a project,” he blurted, hoping it would give him an opening to make his exit.

To his relief, Pete stood up straight again. “I’ll let you get back to it, then.” His eyes wandered over him long enough to make Patrick feel self-conscious. “I’d like to buy you a coffee sometime, though, if you’re alright with it."

Patrick blinked rapidly, his brain gradually returning to a semi-functional state. A date? Against the rules or not, he’d have to be crazy to turn Pete down. He did have his schedule, though… “Yeah,” he said finally, somehow not stumbling on the word. “Tomorrow morning at the school cafe?”

Pete’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Absolutely. I’ll see you then.”

Patrick couldn’t help but grin as he left the library.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

“You’re aware that you’re screwed, right?” Joe asked him bluntly. “There’s no way the producers are going to let you go out with him.”

“Why shouldn’t they?” Frank shot back. “Pete seems to like him, and besides the whole dropping his books thing, he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Joe gave him a flat look. “Firstly, because dropping his books was a pretty big thing to do wrong, and secondly, they’ve been grooming some girl for him to date for months. They’re not going to let that go.”

“What he’s trying to say is that what you did was stupid,” Greta told Patrick in a way that almost seemed like a kindly mother trying to scold her child without hurting his feelings.

Patrick sighed, his palms pressed against his forehead like they would chase away the headache that threatened. “You don’t think I know that already? Still, you heard what Joe said. They’d probably kick me off just for dropping my books, so I figured I’d go for it.”

Joe nodded sagely. “That is true. In that case, it was a pretty bold move.” He took a bite of his burger, then added around it, “You’re still fucked, though.”

"Hopefully in more ways than one," said Frank, eyebrows giving a suggestive waggle.

Patrick just rolled his eyes and kept eating.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

He wasn't sure why, but Patrick didn't really expect Pete to show up for coffee. There was very little evidence to support this feeling - Pete was, in general, a courteous person and rarely offered to do anything he didn't believe in - but it was there nonetheless. Maybe because he wasn't sure he was the kind of person worthy of taking up Pete's time.

Despite this, Pete strolled through the door of the coffee shop right as Patrick was about to reach the front of the line. He swooped in front of him, and it took Patrick a second to realize that he was frowning.

"Hi," Patrick greeted carefully. "Is everything alright?"

Pete planted his hands on his hips. "No, everything is not alright," he said, his tone admonishing. "I do recall specifically offering to buy you coffee and you were just about to buy it yourself. A guy could be offended."

Patrick shrugged meekly, not wanting to admit he had expected to be stood up. He was sure Pete would _actually_ be offended by that. "You should probably get on that soon, because I think we're holding up the line."

"They don't mind," Pete said confidently, turning to the girl behind them. "Do you mind?"

She shook her head hard, eyes wide just from his presence. Patrick could relate.

Pete spun back to him. "See, she doesn't mind."

Patrick pushed him toward the barista who seemed to be losing her patience. “Great, I get it. Now order.”

After they got their drinks, Pete led him to a small, private table on the corner of the coffee house as if their whole date wasn't already being broadcast across the globe. Patrick was very much aware that Pete didn’t know this, but he still took a sick kind of amusement from Pete’s futile desire for privacy.

“So it occurs to me,” Pete said as they settled themselves, “that I’ve asked you out and bought you a drink and I still don’t know your name.”

“What an egregious oversight,” Patrick replied dryly. “You should be ashamed.”

“I could,” he agreed, “but I’d rather you just tell me.”

“It’s Patrick.”

“Patrick.” The way Pete said his name is almost reverent, but he ruined it a second later when he went on, “So does that mean I can call you Pat? Patty? Rickster?”

“Sure,” Patrick drawled, leveling Pete with a look that he hoped screamed _don’t you dare_. “If you enjoy being punched, feel free.”

His threat didn’t seem to work because Pete’s grin only grew. “Awesome. I’m Pete, by the way.” Patrick suppressed the urge to say _I know._

Pete did most of the talking as they sipped at their drinks, telling Patrick all kinds of things about himself that Patrick had to pretend like he was hearing for the first time. The conversation eventually turned to music, as it inevitably did when Patrick was involved in a discussion, and he found himself in mid-rave about the many ways Prince changed music forever when he realized he should have been in class fifteen minutes ago. He leapt to his feet, cursing.

“Shit, I have to go,” Patrick said before chugging the rest of his tea. “I’m so sorry for boring you with my rants.”

An eyebrow rose in his direction. “Boring?” Pete stood with him and placed both hands on his shoulders. “I think you’re fucking delightful, Patrick. Not to mention brilliant and totally right about everything.”

The compliments filled his cheeks with a color he knew his friends back at home would give him flack for. “Oh, well.”

“Anyway,” Pete barreled on, “you should meet Gabe. He’s been my best friend since before I can remember and pretty much everyone I date has to go through him at some point. That new Batman movie is coming out tomorrow - you like Batman, right? Anyway, Gabe’s got tickets and you should come.”

God, he really wanted to, but… “I’ve got work tomorrow.” It wasn’t a lie, but he was slightly more concerned about the fact that he was probably going to be sleeping on his mom’s couch in the outside world by tomorrow morning.

Pete’s face fell a bit. “Right. You probably shouldn’t get fired over me. Some other time then? I could give you my number.”

Patrick reluctantly agreed, taking the crumpled napkin Pete wrote it on and tucking it into his pocket. He didn’t promise to call, and Pete didn’t make him, so he dragged himself all the way across the campus to his class. It was almost halfway done by the time he got there, so he spent the rest of the allotted time staring longingly at the numbers scrawled on the trash in his hand. Five minutes before class is let out, two men dressed in black stagehand clothing stepped into the room. “Patrick Stump, come with us please.”

Titters scattered between his classmates, but Patrick stood, resigned to his fate. At least he knew this was coming, but he didn’t expecting to be called out so publicly. He supposed he had to be made an example of. He gathered his books and followed them through the building all the way to the office, but any college officials were nowhere to be found. Instead, Richard Rider, the executive producer sat at one of the desks, hands folded neatly.

The salt-and-pepper haired man gestured to the seat across from him, but Patrick refused. Instead, he squared his shoulders and clutched his books in from of him like a shield, preparing to take his punishment with dignity.

“It’s been awhile since Pete’s been interested in any member of the cast,” the man said like he’s picking up a conversation from where it left off. “He’s turned down every romantic interest we’ve prepared for him since the last… girl.” He said _girl_ with the same inflection one would say _incident_. Fair enough, considering what a disaster that relationship had been. “You can understand why his interest in you is… surprising. You’re not really his type.”

“Well, maybe you just don’t know him as well as you thought you did,” Patrick said bitterly in his defense, but regretted it immediately when the man’s sharp eyes snap to him.

“I’ve watched Pete since he was born,” he said, his voice deep with warning. “I’ve heard every word he’s said, and have read every word he’s written. I know more about him than I know about myself.” He stood, towering over Patrick easily. “Do remember you are only here by my charity, and that I’m only allowing you to stay because I want Pete to move on.”

The meaning of his words dawned on Patrick slowly. “You want me to be his rebound.”

The man returned to his seat, slipping back into a more gentle demeanor. “I want him to get on the right track,” he corrected. “If that means you are to be a rebound, then so be it.”

Patrick mouth flattened into a thin line as he prepared to tell him where he can shove his charity, but Rider’s face was soft when he continued. “Pete cares about you. He hasn’t stopped talking about you since he met you in the library.” He slid a pile of papers across the desk at Patrick. “That’s why I revised your contract. You will be allowed to break your schedule, but only if he requests it of you. If you miss work, you will be paid. If you miss class, you will be excused. Your life now revolves around him, understood?”

Patrick flipped through the papers, trying to keep the disbelief off his face. He was really expecting this meeting to go worse than it had. “I’ll accept,” he said finally, “but under one condition.” The man waved a hand, signaling him to go on. Patrick took a breath to steel his courage. “If he breaks up with me, I will go, but if I’m to break up with him, it will be because I want to, not because you asked me to.”

The man considered, then eventually nods. He didn’t look pleased about it, though. “Very well, as long as you abide by the rest of the contract. Is there anything else?”

Patrick shook his head, and the man extended a hand toward him.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Stump.”

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

Gabe was a lot taller in person. Like, way taller. The kind of tall where he felt like his neck would cramp if he maintained eye contact for too long.

“Patrick, this is Gabe,” Pete introduced, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t locked around his wrist. “Gabe, this is the cute dude from school I won’t shut up about.”

Heat flooded Patrick’s cheeks as he began to realize the lead producer hadn’t been exaggerating in his description of how much Pete spoke about him. Gabe must have taken it for embarrassment because he just started laughing.

“Dude, your descriptions do him absolutely no justice. He’s fucking precious.”

Patrick scowled a little in an attempt to shake off the “precious” label before it fully manifested in Gabe’s brain, but Pete undid the attempt by ruffling his hair. “You know it. Come on, let’s go before all the good seats are taken.”

If Patrick had held any illusions of making out in the back of the theater (however unrealistic those illusions may have been) they dissipated immediately when Pete dragged him to the exact center of the theater insisting that it was the “best spot.”

Pete vibrated with excitement throughout the film, and Patrick was accosted with frequent tugs on his shirt and the occasional smack on his shoulder with hissing whispers of “Did you see that? Oh my god, that was so cool!” like he wasn’t watching the same movie. Still, with that level of fervor, Patrick couldn’t help but reply with fond smiles, though normally he’d hit him right back and tell him to shut his mouth and let him watch. Consequently, he left the theater with only a vague idea of what the movie was about, but it doesn’t much matter since Pete was recounting every scene in detail with wild enthusiasm.

They found their way to a nearby sports bar for dinner and wound up filling up on onion rings before their meal arrived, so they spent the majority of the time chatting and sipping at their beers. Pete and Gabe only had one each, and Patrick promised himself he wouldn't get too carried away with his own, but his glass never seemed to empty and Pete got funnier as the night went on. Before he knew it, he was stumbling out to the car with his hands venturing to find the skin underneath Pete’s shirt.

Gabe chuckled and gave Patrick a heavy pat on the back that sent him staggering. “Man, you are a serious lightweight.”

“Shuddup, ‘s been a while,” he slurred into Pete’s shoulder.

“Well, I take that as a sign that we should be taking you drinking more often,” said Pete as he herded him into the passenger's seat.

“Call me when you do,” Gabe chimed in, “but for now I’ll give you two some time alone.”

“Gabriel,” Pete scoffed. “I am deeply offended at your suggestion that I’d take advantage of his inebriated condition. I would never.”

“Uh-huh. Just text me when you’re home, alright?”

Pete agreed and sent Gabe off, slipping into the driver’s seat. “Ignore Gabe. I’m going to get you home.”

Patrick pressed his face to the window as he watched Gabe leave. “Gabe’s nice though. I like him.”

When he turned to buckle his seatbelt, he caught Pete’s soft smile. “I like him, too. He’s been a good friend to me.”

When they got to his apartment, Pete walked him to the door. Patrick appreciated this, seeing that the stairs had adopted a wobbling quality that they hadn’t had that morning.

“You’re so nice,” Patrick babbled when they reach his front door. “Like, really nice. I mean, I knew you were nice, but not like, nice-nice.”

“Maybe I’m only nice to you,” jested Pete as Patrick unlocked his apartment door. “You really never know.”

It took all the liquid courage Patrick had in him to turn around and lean close to Pete’s face. “Well, maybe you should come in and be nice to me some more.”

That close to Pete's face, he could hear the small hitch in the other man's breath at the suggestion, but his head shook instead. "God, I want to, but no." Pete combed Patrick's bangs out of his eyes. "I like you a lot, but it doesn't feel right like this. Not the first time."

Patrick was disappointed, but he understood. He would probably have felt the same if it were the other way around. Still... "Will you at least kiss me?" He asked, though his time he bordered on pleading.

Pete chewed his lip for a moment before whispering "Fuck, Patrick. I don't think you understand how tempting you are."

He was about to reply, beg Pete for anything when lips were pressing softly against his. He couldn't stop the weak noise that escaped him as he leaned into it, hands gripping Pete's face as it deepened. He nearly whimpered when it broke.

"Pete..."

"I know," he said, his voice low and full of desire, "but you're wasted and I don't want you to regret this in the morning." He kissed Patrick's forehead. "Some other time. Good night, Patrick."

"I'll hold you to that," threatened Patrick. "Good night."

That night, Patrick fell asleep smiling.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

"Some other time" took a while to come around. Mid-terms were coming and both of them were so busy with studying that they hardly saw each other beyond quick lunches or stolen kisses between classes. It was almost two weeks later before Patrick was finally at Pete's apartment, ignoring the books strewn across the floor in favor of Pete's lips.

"We really should be studying," Patrick protested without making any real effort to stop Pete from trailing kisses down to his neck. "If you keep that up, my pants are coming off and that’s not very educational."

Pete pulled back to smirk impishly at him. "It’d be educational to me. Plus, we have none of the same classes, dude. I didn't invite you here to study."

... Oh.

Patrick leaned his head back to accommodate Pete's continued nipping and licking. "I've been had. Lied to and deceived."

Pete's hands found his hips and his voice vibrated against his throat. "I have an idea of how I can apologize for that."

Suddenly Patrick became very conscious of the cameras positioned all around them, especially when he quickly hardened at Pete’s words. He knew that the show’s editors never broadcasted Pete having sex, but someone had to watch them in order to cut it out. Probably several someones.

Pete must see the panic on Patrick’s face because he sat up with a concerned frown. “If you’re not okay with this, I could...”

Guilt hit Patrick immediately. It’s not like he could tell Pete why he was hesitant. Of course he was going to take it personally and no one could really fault him for it. “No, no,” Patrick interrupted. “I want this. I do. I’m just nervous is all.” He looked at Pete through his eyelashes, trying to go for coy and seductive at the same time. “I really like you.”

Pete dragged the back of his fingers absently against the bulge in Patrick’s jeans, making him take a sharp breath. “Well, if you’re sure...”

“If my dick isn’t in your mouth in thirty seconds, I might hit you,” Patrick warned.

Grinning, Pete pulled his jeans open. “Let’s get to educating, then.”

It was heaven when Pete went down on him. His mouth was so slick and hot and perfect that the concerns he'd had about being watched are slowly edged out by concentrating on not coming down Pete’s throat after five seconds of head. He attempted to muffle his moans by shoving as much of his fist in his mouth as he can fit, but Pete pulled it away.

“Wanna hear you,” he said, his breath ghosting over Patrick’s cock before he sank back down.

Patrick let out a string of curses when he felt himself bump the back of Pete’s throat. The slight choke is almost more than he could handle, and the sight of Pete’s hand snaking down to unbutton his own jeans was just…

“Wait, don’t,” Patrick blurted breathlessly. “Stop. I’m gonna come and I really want to fuck you.”

Pete pulled off with a groan, then kissed Patrick’s ticklish stomach, making him twitch. “Want that too, Patrick. Shit.”

He stripped the rest of the way, then stood, presumably to look for lube. Patrick occupied himself by shucking his remaining clothes and gently touching himself to keep himself up. It was worth it to see Pete swear and stumble when he saw him laid out across the floor, naked and stroking his cock with soft gasps.

“You’re going to kill me,” Pete declared as he crawled over him. “I’m going to die because you’re way too fucking sexy to exist. It’s not fair.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Just roll over and let me finger you.”

“That's the kind of shit I mean!” Pete accused, though he obeyed, handing the lube and a condom over as he does so. “It should be illegal to have such a cute face with such an obscene mouth.”

Patrick felt like he should have gotten better at not blushing when Pete complimented him like that, but his burning cheeks told him he has a long way to go on that front. He didn’t reply, instead pressing a lubed finger into Pete gently. A shivering sigh drifted from Pete’s lips and he pushed back onto the finger, muttering encouragements. It was difficult to keep his composure stretching Pete when he was squirming and moaning under Patrick’s touch, but he managed not to break and rolled the condom on as Pete flipped onto his back.

“Want to do it like this,” he breathed, wrapping his legs around Patrick’s waist. Patrick swallowed hard and nodded. Was anyone ever able to deny Pete anything when he was like that? Just the dark arousal in Pete’s eyes made something in him weak.

It was only when he sunk into Pete that everything started to seem surreal. Only then did Patrick realize fully how he was buried balls-deep in _Pete Wentz_. Pete, the guy everyone his age grew up watching; the guy pretty much everyone in the outside world adored. Hell, Patrick had seen supermodels and movie stars name him as an object of their desire and he was _fucking him_. He groaned and rolled his hips, making Pete sigh and tighten his legs around him.

God, how was it that the teenaged heartthrob that had made Patrick realize that maybe it wasn’t just girls he wanted to be with was the man whispering “More, come on. That’s it, please...” in his ear? How was the guy that brought about his sexual awakening now groaning low in his throat and gripping his sides tight? The one whose tattoos he fantasized about licking while he masturbated was arching up under his fingers as he stroked him, pleading “That’s it, come on Patrick, right there!”

Patrick gritted his teeth and braced his hand beside Pete’s head and kept the angle that shut Pete up in favor of half-choked sobs of pleasure as he hammered the same spot with everything he had. Pete came before him, but only by moments. He was so overcome by his own orgasm that he barely noticed until he saw the satisfied grin beneath him and the streaks of come decorating his abdomen.

“Holy shit,” Pete breathed, and Patrick couldn’t help but nod his agreement as he gently pulled out of him. “Holy shit, Patrick. I fucking love you.”

He fumbled the condom, but it luckily landed without making a mess. “Pete...”

Pete pulled at his wrist. “Forget the cleanup, dude,” he said like those four words didn’t flip Patrick’s entire world on it’s head. “Get over here and fucking hold me.”

He let Pete pull him into his arms and hug him tightly against his chest, trying not to let his nerves show. Pete didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t say it back, and Patrick was grateful for that. He had a lot to think about.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

Joe's smirk was unbearable. Patrick was still grappling with the confession of love only heard by himself and the unfortunate soul tasked with monitoring their amorous affairs the night before and all Joe could do was smirk at him.

"What?" he demanded, cheeks stained red.

"I heard the show ran commercials longer than normal last night," Joe said. "Wanna tell us about that?"

"I'm unsure what you're talking about," Patrick lied.

No one was convinced if the set of unamused faces staring back at him was anything to go by.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," said Greta, "but don't lie to us. You're kind of terrible at it."

Patrick started to retort when he spotted the same two men that had interrupted his class walking into the bar. They made a beeline for their table, not even looking at anyone else but Patrick.

"A word," the larger of the two demanded.

Resigned to his fate, Patrick stood, trying to ignore the frightened or sympathetic looks from his friends. They led him outside where they turn on him.

"You must leave him," the big one said without prelude.

"No, I mustn't," Patrick returned. "You know what the deal is. Anything else?"

"I don't think you understand," said the other. "Pete isn't going to accept a casual relationship anymore. You heard what he said."

Patrick stood his ground, arms crossed defiantly in front of him. "I understand perfectly fine. Pete's never been casual to me and you know it. You're just panicking because Pete feels the same and now he won't swallow whatever love interest you're going to try to shove down his throat. Am I getting hot or cold?"

One man scowled and the other pursed his lips. "You won't last," the smaller man stated. "We only want Pete to walk away with as unscathed as possible when you're gone."

"You don't know anything about us," Patrick bit out, but the larger man was smirking before he even finished.

"We know him," he said, "and you won't last. Enjoy your meal."

With that, the two walked away.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

A young woman led Patrick off the set for the first time in the year he'd been there.

“You’re not in trouble,” she had assured when she approached him, “we just want you for an interview.”

Being taken away for an interview was more than a little nerve-wracking, but he knew it was a huge deal. The production team ran interviews with cast and producers when Pete was sleeping or… otherwise occupied to fill the gaps between commercials. Usually only major cast members took part, such as Gabe or Pete’s mother. Allowing him to be interviewed was an admission that he’d become more than just an extra who’d overstepped his bounds.

He was led to a brightly lit room that smelled heavily of hairspray and was decorated with two armchairs and some tasteful plants dotting the space. He recognized the woman sitting in the chair opposite the one they pushed him into as the host, Brenda. She was in her mid-fifties, but she had been conducting such interviews since Pete was born. Patrick suspected they’d have to replace her one day when Pete got older, but she was almost as well-recognized a figure as the rest of the cast.

The man behind the camera counted down and the crew scrambled to their places, so Patrick took a deep breath and found the most charming smile he could adorn when the cameras started rolling.

"Good evening, everyone! You’re watching Brenda, and I'm here with one of the Wentz Show's newest cast members, Patrick Stump. How are you, Patrick?"

She looked so natural with her Hollywood smile that Patrick began to feel very, very small in his oversized armchair. "Uh. Great. I feel good."

"I'm glad," she replied. "After all, it's been a busy couple of weeks for you, hasn't it? In my last interview, I was told that you aren't even part of the intended cast. How does it feel to be such a big part in the show?"

Already Patrick felt himself sweating under the lights. "I hadn't really thought about it, honestly," he admitted. "I mean, I realize I'm not an extra anymore, but I've pretty much been focusing on Pete."

"As we all are," she said with a wide smile. "Still, Pete’s interest in you surprised a lot of people, including our illustrious Mr. Rider. What was going through your head?”

“I was mostly just panicking at first,” he admitted with a nervous laugh. “I thought I was going to be kicked off the set just for laying eyes on him, which was a little silly in retrospect, considering.”

She made an interested noise and straightened the papers that were in her hands. “I interviewed the Mr. Rider recently and he mentioned that they had planned to introduce a love interest into Pete’s life very soon before he became interested in you. What are your thoughts on that?”

Patrick nodded vaguely. He had heard that, but there were always such rumors floating around the supporting cast. “I think for me it just highlights the fact that Pete is a person,” he replied. “I mean, he’s very famous to those who watch him and he is part of a television show, but to him, he’s just like everyone else. As much as the producers try to influence his life, he’s going to make his own choices sometimes.”

The look on Brenda’s face made him want to grab those words out of the air and swallow them again. He hadn’t meant for them to sound so much like an Opinion, but they were true. The longer Patrick was with him, the more cruel them setting up his relationships seemed. He was an adult being spoon-fed a life he didn’t always want, and Patrick was him sneaking candy between bites.

“There are a few that protest this show, saying that it’s inhumane to watch a man’s life unfold in front of our eyes,” she said, with a look of vague suspicion. “You grew up watching the show like most youths Pete’s age. What are your feelings on the subject?”

It was a test, Patrick knew well enough. He squared his jaw and sat up. “I understand where they’re coming from.” Brenda’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline, but he held out a hand. “We think his life in here is perfect like he deserves at the cost of his freedom, and they think he has the right to be free at the cost of imperfection. I get that they love Pete just like we do. They just have a different opinion about what that means.”

“Interesting,” said Brenda. “I never thought of it that way. Thank you for joining us, Patrick.”

On the walk back to set, the escorts followed him a step closer than before.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

Pete had insisted on meeting his friends. And by “insisted,” Patrick meant followed him around for days at every opportunity he could, begging until Patrick sighed in resignation. He still didn’t have many friends, but he figured Joe, Frank and Greta count well enough. This led to Pete sitting in the bar at their normal table, getting wide-eyed stares from the three.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought my boyfriend,” Patrick said, relishing in the adoring look Pete gave him at the last word.

Pete waved a little, flashing his charming smile. “I’m Pete. It’s nice to finally meet you all.”

The three stared in open-mouthed silence. “He’s so much more attractive in person,” Frank said finally, and Patrick dropped his head into his hands.

“I like that guy,” Pete tells him.

“That guy would be Frank,” Patrick introduced, gesturing around the table. “That’s Greta, and that’s Joe. He’s my dorm-mate.”

Pete shook hands with them all, blissfully unaware of the bar slowly emptying of people too shy to even be in the same building as him. “Patrick’s told us so much about you,” Greta said as they seated themselves.

“None of the good stuff, though,” Frank said with a sigh. “He won’t tell us one word about your sex life.”

“That’s because no one else but you actually wants to know,” retorted Patrick, but Pete was laughing beside him.

Pete threw a wink Frank’s way. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“No, you _won’t_!”

The five of them passed the evening with idle chatter and laughter until it got late enough that they finally thought to become worried about class the next day.

“I love you all dearly, but I’m not failing out of school for you,” Greta stated as she shrugged on her coat.

“That’s cold,” Joe said, but he stood as well. “I should probably go myself, then.”

They said their goodbyes and Patrick walked Pete back to his dorm, hands swinging loosely between them.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” said Pete. “Your friends are great. I don’t know why you wanted to hide them from me so bad.”

Patrick shrugged, not really sure how to explain their relationship of convenience to him. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t understand why you wanted to see them so bad.”

Pete stopped and turned to him, taking his face between his hands. “Patrick, do I really have to spell it out to you? I love you and the people you care about are people I want to know. Your friends, your family, your pet goldfish, I don’t care.”

Patrick’s heart dropped at the mention of his family. He hadn’t seen them since he first stepped foot on set and he missed them. “I don’t have a goldfish,” he deflected.

“I’ll get you one. We’ll name him Godwin.”

“No we-”

His protest was cut off by a kiss tender enough to melt him on the spot. It was unfair how easily Pete could do that to him, he thought distantly as he pressed into it, feeling Pete relax the same way.

“I love you,” he said again.

Patrick couldn't find the courage to say it back.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

That night at the bar was the last he’d heard from the producers for a long time. It surprised him, though he wasn't not going to complain about not having to deal with them for a while. “A while” turns out to be longer than he expected because before he realized, Pete’s graduating from their college and continuing on to grad school for his law degree.

“My dad was a lawyer,” Pete explained one day as they were walking to Patrick’s dorm. “I think he would have wanted me to follow him.”

Patrick knew, but he made an interested face like it was news to him. The house fire was an episode no one ever forgot. Pete was away at Gabe’s when the Richard Rider unceremoniously kicked his father off the set and burned the house to cover his tracks. Since then, Pete still winced around fire even as small as a candle, but it served as an example of what would happen to those who tried to expose the lie he lived in.

“Is it what you want, though?”

Pete looked away from him. “I want...” he wrung his hands. “I want you to be with me.”

Patrick arched an eyebrow at him. “I thought I was. Or were we just friends with benefits for the past year?”

“And what amazing benefits,” Pete chuckled, “but that isn’t what I meant. I want you to live with me. I mean, let’s face it, dorms suck and we could afford a kick-ass apartment where we could fuck on any surface without anyone walking in.”

Having to apologize to Joe for a week straight for letting Pete bend him over the dining table wasn’t exactly an experience he’d like to repeat, it’s true, but moving in with Pete? For the first time since he began dating Pete, he gave a thought to why he was actually there. He came for college, and he only had a year or so left before he’d be on his way just like Pete. Only unlike Pete, he’d planned to leave. He was going to go back to the outside world where his friends and family were. But if he lived with Pete…

A lump rose in Patrick’s throat. This is what the men had meant. They didn’t want him around, so they decided to wait him out and make him choose between Pete and home. Pete and family. Pete and freedom. And Pete… Pete was a more tempting option than he would have ever imagined.

Patrick looked up and found him stopped, finally looking at him with pleading eyes. Suddenly freedom didn’t seem that important after all. “We could give it a shot.”

Pete smiled blindingly and threw his arms around him with a happy noise. “I’m so glad,” he murmured in Patrick’s ear. “So happy. You make me so fucking happy. I love you.”

Warmth spread in Patrick’s heart and important words pressed against his throat, so he finally let them go. “I love you too.”

The remaining walk to the dorm was quiet, but Pete’s joy was loud. He smiled at everyone that passed, leaned over to kiss Patrick’s temple every six steps and Patrick was fairly sure if he wasn’t holding his hand, he would have been skipping. Realization dawned on him that he’d never seen Pete like this when he watched him on his TV. This was all him. He’d made Pete this happy. The thought worried him.

They kissed in front of the dorm building, lips and hands lingering just a bit longer than usual. “You’ll come to my graduation next week, right?” asked Pete, like Patrick might still say no.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he promised.

They parted ways reluctantly, and Patrick trudged up the stairs to his room slower with his thoughts weighing him down. Joe was standing nervously on the other side of the door when he got there, holding a letter.

“What is it?” Patrick asked him. There wasn’t a lot that made Joe uneasy.

Joe held the letter out to him. “For you,” he said. Patrick didn't even need to look at it now to know what was making him anxious. “It’s from Mr. Rider.”

Praying it wasn’t what he thought it was, Patrick opened the letter and read it.

“What do they want?” Joe asked, watching Patrick’s brow furrow more with every word.

“Not what I expected,” he said, reading it over and over. “They’re offering me money.”

Joe frowned. “Money? For what?”

“They want me to leave him,” Patrick explained. “Break up with him or go out of town for my next degree or something.” He laughed humorlessly. “They probably meant for this to get to me before I talked to Pete. He wants to move in together.”

The silence that fell between them was the heaviest Patrick had ever felt.

“How much did they offer you?” Joe asked finally.

“A lot,” he admitted. “I could live comfortably for the rest of my life without working another day.”

“Are you going to take it?”

That was the question wasn’t it? The big choice that could both make and break his life no matter what he chose. He looked the letter over again. “I don’t know.”

Joe’s hand came over the paper and lowered it so he could look him in the eye. “Do you love him?”

Patrick’s breath caught in his throat. He knew he'd just said so, but…

He folded the letter quietly and set it on the table beside him to consider later. Later, he shreds it.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

The apartment they moved into was small. There was only one bedroom, the kitchen couldn't fit more than one of them at the same time, and the dishwasher broke down within the first week, but it was theirs. It helped that he dishwasher was replaced with an upgraded one the next day. Perks of living with a TV star, Patrick thought.

Patrick decorated with what little he learned from his own parents decorating, which is a handful of fake plants here and there, while Pete hung pictures of them and his family in every room. Pete also bought a goldfish. He named it Godwin. Despite his original protests, Patrick loved that stupid fish.

It turned out that, between Patrick's last classes and Pete's new college, living together didn't necessarily mean seeing each other more often. The time they had together was limited to brief goodbye kisses in the mornings and spending evenings lying lazily in front of the TV with the occasional book or packet of homework to ignore.

Sundays were the only days they both had off, so they cherished them as best they could, even if it was just curling up to a movie with takeout. More often than not they devoted this time to exploring each other in ways they couldn't with their frantic touches and quickies before class.

At least twice a month, Patrick received letters from the studio offering increasing sums to convince him to leave. Even when a hint of consideration breached his defenses, one look at a coat draped over the armrest or haphazardly organized shoes by the door or a gentle touch from the one he stayed for destroyed the idea. He told them he'd leave Pete on his own terms, and he wasn't ready. He wasn't really sure if he ever would be.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

Pete insisted on celebrating Patrick's graduation, despite his numerous assurances that it wasn't necessary. He surprised Patrick with a dinner at the classiest spot in town, beaming at Patrick's befuddled expression.

"Pete, we can't afford this place," Patrick said as Pete pulled him from the car.

"Sure we can," he dismissed. "I've been saving for months. Come on, let me treat you. You deserve it."

He was about to point out that he hadn't achieved anything Pete hadn't achieved himself, but the pleading look in Pete's eyes stopped him short. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to be treated just this once. After all...

Patrick pushed the thoughts of the choice he would have to make very soon out of his mind. Choosing between Pete and a life outside the studio was not something to be thought about that day.

As if he was reading Patrick's mind, Pete seemed uneasy all through dinner. The conversation that usually came so easy to them was nervous and distracted until, halfway through the dinner course, Patrick became concerned.

"Are you alright?" asked Patrick, watching Pete wring his hands.

Pete looked startled at the question and stumbled over his answer. "Huh? Oh. Uh, yeah, for sure. I'm fine. I just, uh."

"Pete," he interrupted with a hand on Pete's forearm. "Relax. Just tell me what's going on."

Pete took a steadying breath. "I'm fine, really," he insisted. "I'm just worried about spending this much. I know we don't have a lot. I should have told you."

Patrick laughed, shaking his head fondly. "Is that all? I'm not mad at you, I promise. This was really sweet of you."

A relieved smile crossed Pete's face and he relaxed a touch, and they finished their meal with much less tension. As they walked out to the car, Patrick snaked his arms around Pete's waist and kissed his neck.

"Everything was perfect," he murmured in his ear. "We should get back so I can thank you properly."

Pete shivered underneath his lips. "God, yes, but... Not yet." He pulled out of Patrick's arms to face his confused look. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

He didn't really, but he nodded anyway. Pete had that anxious look on his face again, and if this would calm him, he'd do it. They walked past the car and across the street where the park was. They kept walking for a ways without a word until Pete pulled him under a tree that overlooked the beach and sat.

"My dad died when I was nine," he said suddenly, like it was part of a conversation they were already having. "The house caught fire while I was at Gabe's for a sleepover. It messed me up pretty bad. Like, I still want to cry every time I see a candle. I don't think I ever told you about it."

He hadn't, but of course Patrick already knew. He shook his head anyway.

"I also had a long-term girlfriend like, a year before we met," he continued. "I loved her a lot, but I constantly had the feeling she didn't love me the same way. She said she did and I guess I believed her. Turns out she was fucking one of the dudes from her biology class and I loved her too much to dump her for it. We were together for another year before I figured out she'd never feel like I did."

Patrick remembered how miserable he looked when he was with her, and how aloof she was toward him, even when he promised her the world. People threw parties when they finally broke up. Patrick reached out for Pete's hand.

"Pete..."

"Wait, let me finish," he insisted, squeezing the offered hand. "There's also..." He paused and makes a pained face. "There's this girl at grad school that keeps flirting with me. Like, she's great and beautiful and everything, but I keep telling her I'm with you and she won't _stop_..."

Dread settled in Patrick's chest. He knew the producers must have had a plan b to get rid of him other than polite requests, but seducing Pete from under him wasn't exactly something he expected, much less for it to work. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked. If this was a breakup, he felt he had a right to know.

Pete caught the look on Patrick's face and verbally backpedaled. "I'm not... I mean this isn't... I'm telling you because I feel like we're at a stage in our relationship where there should be no more secrets, you know? So if there's anything you want to tell me, you can do it now if you want."

Patrick winced. Keeping the biggest secret of his life weighed heavily enough on him without the pressure Pete had just added. Pete deserved to more than anyone to know about the cameras all around them, but would he be able to handle the truth?

"I miss my parents," he said instead. "They live really far away and I haven't been able to see them since I moved here." It wasn't a lie; he thought about his family a lot, especially since his original contract with the studio was within days of expiring. He could leave and see them, but Pete...

The gentle touch on his cheek filled him with the same warmth it gave him when they first met. "We could go see them. Take a day if you want. I'd love to meet your family."

Patrick shook his head hard, tears threatening at the thought of seeing them again. "It's too far. We couldn't afford it. I'm fine, really." He wasn't, but he could lie for Pete's sake.

Pete didn't look like he believed him, but he looked away, fiddling with something in his pocket. "To tell you the truth, there is something else I've been hiding from you."

Patrick looked away as well. If Pete was going to dump him, he wanted to maintain some level of dignity. Pete refused to grant him that and gently turned his head back to look at him. "I was hiding this."

Patrick could barely process what he was seeing until he noticed Pete was on one knee with the object from his pocket held out in front of him. Words were spilling from Pete’s mouth before Patrick could gather his thoughts well enough to summon words. "I wanted to get all this out now because I've wanted this for a while and I figured I'd give you a year to come to your senses and leave me, but you're still here and I want you to know all of me before..."

"Stop."

Pete's jaw snapped shut, but he was still looking at Patrick like he was expecting him to rip his heart out. "Stop talking like you're not good enough and I'm some sort of angel," Patrick hissed. "If you want to ask, stop explaining and ask."

"Please marry me," Pete breathed, the ring box shaking in his hands.

Patrick steadied Pete's hand with his own. "Yes," he said gently. "You _idiot_. Of course I will. You should know by now that you have all of me."

The only warning Patrick had is the flash of a full grin of teeth before he wound up sprawled across the grass being kissed frantically. "I never dreamed I could have this," Pete whispered between kisses. "Never wanted anything more than this."

Patrick couldn't help but think that if he knew what else the world could offer, he might.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

Before Patrick entered his life, the most watched event of Pete's show was his high school graduation with almost 70 million viewers. The viewer forecast for their wedding was triple that, and that did very little to calm Patrick's nerves. He'd already been informed by Brenda and others working within and without the studio that he was fairly unpopular with viewers, feeling they've been robbed of watching Pete having kids and raising a family.

He fussed with his bowtie and straightened his hair for the hundredth time just for Joe to swat his hand away. "You look fine," he insisted. "Seriously, calm down. If you leave him at the altar, I swear I'll be the first in line to stab you."

Patrick couldn't help but smile at him. Joe had been scheduled to leave the show when Patrick had - right after graduation - but had stayed behind just to be the best man at his wedding. Let it never be said that Joe wasn't a true friend. "Thanks for staying," said Patrick sincerely. "I couldn't do this without you."

"Sure you could," Joe dismissed. "You'd be a wreck, but you'd do it." He frowned just a touch. "It's too bad you won't be leaving with me. I would have liked to have a friend on the outside."

"I wish I could go with you," Patrick agreed, "but I doubt they'd let me take Pete with me."

Joe laughed and Patrick relaxed a touch until the music began to play in the other room. "You'll be fine," Joe assured again before entering ahead of him.

Seeing Pete at the altar was beyond anything Patrick ever imagined. He was fidgeting like he normally did, dressed in a suit Patrick wanted to see him wear every day or tear off of him with equal intensity. Both would work as well, but he imagined that it would become fairly costly. Whatever the case, he sent a silent thank you to the wardrobe department for their good taste. The look on Pete's face when he saw him he figured was similar to his own; awe mixed with no small amount of adoration. He was reaching for Patrick's hands before he even got close enough to touch, then, when he could, pulled him gently closer to him.

"You look incredible," he murmured, even while the pastor spoke over them.

Patrick smiled at their joined hands. If he wasn't aware of the live mics between them, he'd speak his earlier thoughts of that tux on the bedroom floor, but as it was he just said, "So do you."

Someone in Pete's family was weeping as the ceremony went on, and Patrick found himself desperately missing his family once more. It'd been painful to lie to Pete, telling him he'd invited his family, but they just couldn't make it due to a hurricane in their flight path or whatever story he'd been forced to spin that week. Pete was heartbroken, though he tried not to show it. Whether it was on Patrick's behalf or from his own desire to meet Patrick's family, he wasn't sure. Still, Patrick's friends were there, and that had to be enough, even if Patrick had to walk the aisle alone.

Distantly, he imagined his family was watching and smiling.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

The health store Patrick worked at shut down when the college extras all went home, but Pete's new job paid well enough to allow them to buy a fairly sizable house on the same street Pete grew up on. It had three bedrooms, which was a little unnecessary in Patrick's opinion, but it was conveniently the only house in their price range on the market. He wasn’t sure what they were going to do with the extra space, and whenever the producers went out of their way to set something up it always made Patrick uneasy.

The furniture from their apartment looked particularly sparse in the sprawling house, so Patrick spent his time at home - which was all the time - shopping for shelves and tables and decorations to fill the space. In a moment of weakness, he bought himself a guitar that looked a lot like the one he’d had at his parents house, but it made his chest ache to look at, so he hid it in the third bedroom.

Slowly, they settled into their new life, though Patrick a little slower than Pete. Without his old job and nothing new becoming available, it was clear that Mr. Rider meant to bore him to death. The internet and cable in Pete's world were so severely censored (he couldn't find out about himself by googling it, could he?) that Patrick would have severed his own limbs to get daytime television back.

Gabe called him for lunch one day, about six months after they bought their house. He and Gabe didn't talk much without Pete, but the distraction was a welcome one, if a little suspicious.

"So, Pete is really happy at his new job," Gabe said. It was not a question. He had seen it, and he and Pete still met up on a weekly basis for drinks. "He loves the house, he loves being married, and he still loves you."

Though they're all compliments, Patrick wasn't sure he liked where it was going. "I feel like a 'but' is coming," he said.

Gabe scrubbed a hand over his face. "Look, I know Mr. Rider wants you gone, and I know you've been upset being as isolated as you are. I think you need to ask yourself how happy you can really make him under these conditions."

Patrick scowled. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Our happiness has nothing to do with any of that."

"It does," Gabe disagreed, "and more than you think. If you're going to leave him because you miss your family, I'd rather you do it before you're in too deep."

"First of all, I’m not going to leave him for my family," said Patrick. "Secondly, we’re married. Don't you think that's already too deep?"

"Not when leaving now versus a year from now might mean the difference between a broken heart and Pete doing something rash."

"I'm not going to leave him," Patrick said again, but this time it felt hollow, even to his own ears.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Gabe's words made sense. The madness of his isolation was starting to creep up on him, so who was to say he wouldn't end up leaving when his homesickness fully took hold?

"All I'm saying is that you deserve to be happy as much as he does," said Gabe, “and you have to make the right choice.”

“And which choice is that exactly?” he asked, even though he knew Gabe’s reply.

“Whatever’s best for Pete.”

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

Patrick started playing his guitar in the coming week. The rough feel of the strings beneath his fingers was almost painful after so long, but it was familiar. Like home. He played for hours, mostly when he tried to forget Gabe’s advice or was avoiding Pete or just felt like he needed a place to be alone.Trying to distance himself from his husband before he worked up the courage to leave seemed like the best plan for now. Maybe then it wouldn’t look as unfounded as dropping it out of nowhere.

Distancing himself was harder than he planned, however. Besides sharing meals and a bed, some days Pete simply refused to be left alone and instead sat at Patrick’s feet as he played, listening silently to the sad songs he wrote. Not that sharing a bed with Pete was any less complicated. It was hard to turn away Pete’s languid kisses and exploring hands, and he didn’t always succeed, even when making love to him felt too much like goodbye.

When he finally worked himself up enough to try to leave, it became far more difficult than he had anticipated; Pete disarmed him too easily. It was maddenly frustrating when Patrick tried to pick a fight, only to wind up accepting soft kisses and whispered apologies every time. Still, he kept trying, but within days, Pete was starting to stop fights before Patrick could start them. At the rate it was going, his plan was hurtling downhill in the exact wrong direction. It took Patrick two weeks to finally reach his breaking point and intercept Pete at the door when he returned from work.

“We need to talk,” Patrick said, his voice tight. “Now.” He turned on his heel toward the living room, Pete following slowly after.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Pete asked carefully, like he was using his words to diffuse a bomb. “I told you I didn’t mean to leave the dishes on the counter last night.”

Pete sat on the couch, trying to pull Patrick onto the seat next to him, but he resisted, sitting on the coffee table across from him instead. “This isn’t about that,” Patrick insisted.

"Is it about the chores thing? I know I don't clean as much as I should. If you want, I could-"

"Pete this isn't working," Patrick interrupted. "We aren't."

Pete's confused expression vanished, and Patrick could see the walls coming up behind the flat line of his lips. "What do you mean by that? Of course we're working. We're happy, Patrick. We're in love. Where is this coming from?"

Patrick shook his head. " _You're_ happy. That's what makes this so hard. I'm..."

"Don't," Pete snapped. "Don't say you're sorry. If you weren't happy, why would you marry me?"

"I can't... I just..." Tears stung in Patrick's eyes. He wanted to tell Pete the truth, to explain, but he couldn't. He had to leave without really explaining why. What kind of monster could do that to someone he loved? "Pete, please..."

"Tell me what's wrong," Pete pleaded right back. "I can't fix it if I don't know what's going on."

Patrick was crying openly then, hiding his face in his hands to retain a small part of his dignity. "I can't. I need to... I'm so sorry, Pete."

Pete pulled his hands down to look him in the eye. "Do you still love me?"

"I..." Patrick choked out.

"Do you?" Pete pressed. "If you don't, fine, but tell me. I deserve that much."

He wanted to say no. It would have broken Pete's heart, but he could have walked away. Been free. He stared down at the teardrops staining his jeans. "I do love you. I never stopped."

Pete took his hands gingerly, like Patrick might snatch them away. "Then let me fix this."

Patrick tried to protest, wanted to, but he nodded instead. How did he ever let Gabe convince him that leaving was best for Pete? Surely if he saw the look on his face, he would have known it would never be.

The anguish vanished from Pete's face at the small movement, replaced with tentative hope. "I know you've been a bit stir-crazy. Maybe we can get you some gigs in town so you won't be home alone with that guitar all day," he suggested. "We can have date nights and all that crap husbands do. I know I need to do better, and I can. Just let me."

Patrick wiped the last of his tears away. "You're already perfect," he said softly, "but we can do that. All of it. I’m so sorry."

Pete kissed him gently and Patrick couldn't bring himself to break it, so they stayed like that; just kissing with light brushes of hands until Pete coaxed him to the bedroom with promises of a better tomorrow.

 

+-+-+-+-+-+

 

_To Wentz Studios Inc.,_

_While I appreciate your generous offers of monetary reimbursement for my time spent on set beyond my original contract, I will no longer be entertaining the notion of leaving._

_I've come to understand that, though we disagree on a great many things, we share a mutual concern for Pete and his happiness. It has become very clear that his happiness is, for better or worse, influenced by my presence. For that reason, I will be staying indefinitely until such a time as I am not needed or my contract is considered void._

_I hope that as a business dedicated to the life of one man, you can see that the choice I have made is the right one, both for myself and Pete._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. Patrick Wentz_


End file.
